


The detective is out

by PlainJane



Series: Doctors and detectives [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bonding, Frottage, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega John, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlainJane/pseuds/PlainJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to The doctor is in. Sherlock and John are testing the waters of a relationship, and thinking about the future. But sometimes always is more complicated than it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The detective is out

“Sorry, doc. Haven’t seen him.”

John sighed down the phone. “You’re sure. Because he did say he was headed to the Yard.”

“Not today,” Greg said patiently. “Sorry, John. I really have to go.”

“Right. Thanks anyway.” John hung up the phone and slumped in his office chair. The intercom buzzed and his receptionist’s chirpy voice intruded.

“Dr. Watson?”

“Yes, Lucy?”

“Did you want me for anything else today? Only it’s my boyfriend’s birthday—”

“Course,” John started kindly. “You make your way, and wish him the best from me.”

“Thanks. And see you Monday week!”

The intercom crackled and John winced at the reference to his booked time off. As of this last Friday night, Dr. Mike Stamford would be covering his practice for nine days. Mike was a good friend from medical school and an excellent doctor. He taught Gender Medicine at Bart’s these days, but was happy to provide relief for John’s patients while John was away.

As of this moment, Dr. John H. Watson was on heat leave.

It should be fantastic news. As a healthy, suppressed omega there was no reason not to enjoy his planned semi-annual heat—though it was not when it would have been, given the recent “reset” of his cycle. That he had spent the last few weeks preparing to make this a bonding heat, well, that was just the icing on the cake, really.

Or it would be if he had any idea where his alpha was.

______________________

**_6 months ago_ **

“That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever done,” John panted. He dropped his head back against the wall.

Sherlock—also short of breath and leaning heavily into the wall right next to John—snickered. “And you invaded Afghanistan.”

“Well, that wasn’t just me.”

They both laughed and John turned his head to regard the striking young alpha beside him. Sherlock glanced over at him as well, icy greenish eyes locking with dark blue-grey. John’s laughter died as he found himself once more overwhelmed by Sherlock’s charms.

It had been only a few days since the end of Sherlock’s fateful rut and the surprise heat that had prompted John to spend it with him. In his wildest dreams—as a damaged and lonely former soldier struggling to establish a modest medical practice in London—John could never have imagined such good fortune.

It was unexpected; Sherlock had started out as his patient. But John would be a fool to pretend that he hadn’t been attracted to Sherlock right from the first. 

That Sherlock was the handsomest man John had ever seen was certain. That he was the cleverest human being John had ever known was undeniable. That he had—for some unknown reason, after years of trying to avoid his biological impulses—chosen John as his omega still utterly baffled the good doctor.

They could have parted after the five searing days of their season had passed. John would have been disappointed, but he would have understood. Sherlock was very young and very inexperienced, and they hardly knew one another. And yet there was something…

Clearly, Sherlock had felt it, too. He’d been as delighted as John when they’d managed to muddle their way into something of an agreement to continue their relationship. John could not believe his luck. He would never, ever take it for granted.

“John,” Sherlock began tentatively, interrupting John’s reverie.

John realized that the alpha’s gaze had dropped to his mouth. Sherlock was turning toward him, cautiously reaching out. John beamed, taking the offered hand and drawing Sherlock in. Sherlock rolled on his shoulder until he had pinned John between the wall and his own lean body.

A hand wound itself into the wool of John’s jumper. Sherlock’s breathing was still erratic; John’s was no better. Adrenaline was now giving way to something much more carnal. They stared at one another, noses nearly touching, breathing each other’s air. Sherlock inched forward and paused, waiting for John’s consent.

Sherlock was still somewhat uncertain; still so innocent. He was infinitely curious and remarkably perceptive and he had—in spite of the hormones that had governed their first couplings—proven to be a tremendously considerate lover. The thought fired lust through John’s body like an electric shock.

His hand had found its way to Sherlock’s nape. He dug his fingers into the soft curls and, with a subtle nod, closed his eyes.

Sherlock slanted his mouth over John’s with a broken moan. He tasted eagerly, and somewhat more expertly than he had when they’d met. He teased at John’s tongue, which caused John’s prick to twitch in his trousers. John melted into the embrace.

Sherlock nudged closer, pressing his own swelling cock into John’s belly. John moaned now, grabbing at Sherlock’s waist to keep him close.

“Sh-should we…should we…” Sherlock panted into John’s ear.

“Oh, god, yes,” John whispered.

He allowed himself to be led up the stairs to Sherlock’s—to _their_ flat. With 24 hours of the end of their mating, John had found himself at a crime scene. Shortly after that, he’d found himself agreeing to move in with the much younger alpha. _His_ much younger alpha.

It was madness. It was utter lunacy.

It was glorious.

They tumbled together into the flat, still kissing as they attempted to tug at coats and jumpers. Shoes were kicked off into corners, and shirts and trousers and pants were unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Sherlock was nibbling at John’s collarbone, mumbling something.

“What’s that, love?”

“You are delicious. Why do you taste so wonderful?”

John licked the length of his lover’s long neck and nuzzled under his earlobe. “You are delectable, too,” he whispered.

Sherlock hummed, stroking over John’s bared back as he tried to manoeuvre them down the corridor to his own bedroom. “Yes, but _why_? Is there a chemical reaction at play, related to scenting? I should be testing— ”

John kissed him, not so much to stem the tide of a tangent that had the potential to distract his young lover from more physical pursuits (though this was something John was beginning to realize might be a possibility) but because he could not resist Sherlock’s beautiful mouth when it was so full of clever, clever ideas. Sherlock bent to receive the kisses, stroking so deeply inside John’s mouth that John’s knees began to buckle. Sherlock held him firmly, with one hand clasped behind his head and one kneading his left buttock.

Fortunately, it did not take much longer to reach their destination. John clambered up onto the bed he had not yet shared with Sherlock, relinquishing Sherlock’s lips only just long enough to realize that the man had not, in fact, been deterred from his thoughts at all.

“Is there documented evidence of altered taste perception after imprinting? The influx of hormones after bonding would certainly have an effect— ”

“Sherlock?”

“Hmmm?”

“Maybe not just now?”

Sherlock stopped, his glazed eyes quickly refocusing. He blinked down at John—now sprawled wantonly across the bed and teasing at the tip of his cock—and swallowed hard.

“Oh,” he breathed finally.

“Thought I’d lost you there for a minute,” John teased.

Sherlock shook his head. One hand reached down to stroke over the nearest bit of John he could reach from where he stood at the edge of the bed. He dragged his fingertips over John’s thigh reverently. “You are…”

“Just waiting for you.”

Sherlock bit his lip. “What do I—”

John sat up and pressed a hand to Sherlock’s chest. He brushed appreciatively over the fine dark hair. “Whatever feels right,” he said gently. “It’s just like before, only slower.”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth quirked up, and he bent to press a firm kiss to John’s lips. John sighed his approval and allowed himself to sink back to the bed as Sherlock chased him, kissing him all the while. John settled back into the soft bedding and wrapped both arms around his lover’s body.

Sherlock stretched out over him, very quickly realigning their bodies so they could gain much-needed friction.

“Oh, my love,” John panted, relinquishing Sherlock’s kisses for a moment. “Oh, yes. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Sherlock hovered over him, gazing at him intently as he rubbed his thick, dribbling cock against John’s. “John,” he muttered, almost in wonder. “Oh, John. I want…I want…”

“Yes”

“I need to taste you,” Sherlock groaned. “I want your cock in my mouth. I want you to come like that. I want to swallow—”

“Jesus,” John gasped, both from Sherlock’s words and from the tender plucking of the man’s fingers at his nipple. “God, yes. Please. But I want you, too. I want to suck you.”

“Can I go first?” Sherlock asked hopefully.

John smiled indulgently. “No reason at all we can’t go together.” There were still so many things they hadn’t done, even after five solid days of uninterrupted copulation.

Sherlock’s eyebrow shot up. “Really?”

“Yep.” John pushed up on his elbows and shifted up on the bed. “Here,” he said, pressing Sherlock over onto his side. He kissed the tip of the younger man’s nose. “Trust me?”

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, watching in fascination as John shimmied up and then spun on his back until they were top to tail. “Oh! Oh, I see!”

John chuckled. He shifted in closer to Sherlock once more, not at all surprised when his alpha caught his hips and dragged them close. He hissed as Sherlock greedily buried his face in John’s groin and pulled John’s cock between his lips. “Gently, love. Be careful— _teeth_!”

“Sorry,” Sherlock mumbled, mouth still full. He sucked hard at the tip and then pulled John’s length in along the surface of his tongue. He choked a little, getting used to even a modest omega cock bouncing against his palate. John sucked in a sharp breath as Sherlock inadvertently grazed over his fraenulum. The noise was not missed—Sherlock immediately reproduced the contact and set about massaging the spot with his lips.

John tucked his chin in, just enough to be able to look down the length of his body and watch his cock disappearing into Sherlock’s mouth. “Oh, god, yes…oh, Sherlock. That’s it. Just—ungh—just like-like that.”

He turned back to the alpha prick now so close to his own watering mouth. He wrapped one fist around the base, just above the spot where Sherlock’s knot would have formed were they still in season. He leaned in and ran his tongue along the significant length. Sherlock grunted, his hips canting toward the source of his pleasure. John snickered and lapped gently at the drops of pre-come oozing from Sherlock’s slit. He teased at the spot for a moment before popping Sherlock’s glans between his lips and working it for a moment. Sherlock’s cock swelled; John struggled to relax his jaw as he began to work his way down the shaft.

Half dizzy with his own desire, John drifted quickly into an erotic haze. Tongues and fingers, lapping and sucking and stroking—it all blurred together accompanied by a symphony of filthy noises.

A few minutes later, the wonderful wet heat disappeared from John’s prick. “John, John. Sorry, sorry. I can’t hold on. I’m going to—”

Sherlock broke off with a strangled groan. John dug his fingertips into Sherlock’s bum and pulled him as close as possible, taking in as much of the huge cock as he could before Sherlock shouted his release. His hips bucked, but John held him steady and swallowed the thick load. He moaned with complete abandon at the taste and feel of his alpha coming down his throat. He continued pumping the thick shaft with his hand, to add stimulation to the inches he hadn’t been able to fit in his mouth.

“John! Oh, god. Oh, god. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

John let Sherlock’s prick slip from his mouth with a satisfied smack. “Shh.” He soothed, rubbing over Sherlock’s thigh. “It’s fine. You were gorgeous.”

“But it was too fast,” he said softly. “Wasn’t it? You didn’t come.”

“Well, not yet,” John hinted.

Sherlock gazed down between their bodies at John, his cheeks beautifully flushed. In a flurry of limbs, he’d reversed his position and was climbing over John. He settled between John’s thighs with a wicked grin. “I’ll finish what I’ve started,” he rumbled. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

“Mmmm.” John rocked into Sherlock’s body and stretched up for a lingering kiss. Sherlock’s mouth was heavenly—the plush lips were soft to the touch, but so firm as they covered John’s. John sighed a little, chasing Sherlock’s tongue as it flicked over his philtrum. “I would love that.”

When Sherlock pulled back, he was licking his lips with a slightly surprised expression.

“What is it?”

“Is-is that what I taste like?”

John kissed him again, more deeply this time. He pulled back, leaving only enough space between their mouths to whisper, “That’s what you taste like in me.”

Sherlock’s mouth fell open for a moment. “Oh.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Right,” Sherlock said. He shook his head—a quick snap to the side as though trying to regain his equilibrium. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to just…”

John nodded, reaching up to run his fingers through his alpha’s unruly mop of hair. “In your own time.”

Sherlock grinned, pausing to kiss him once more, and then slid back down. He wasted no time before sucking John back into his mouth. John arched off the bed at the slightly too enthusiastic approach. He writhed as Sherlock quickly settled into a perfectly wonderful rhythm—the man would undoubtedly be an expert in no time at all.

“So good,” John encouraged, burying his fingers in Sherlock’s hair once more. He was about to let his eyes fall closed when he felt his lover’s other hand probing at his rim. “Oh, god, yes.”

Fingers gently circled and then slipped inside his dampened passage. Sherlock hummed around his cock as he began to stroke over John’s inner walls. With the added touch, it wasn’t long before John was begging for release. As his orgasm approached, he tugged lightly at his lover’s hair. Sherlock had never done this before and John wanted to warn him.

Sherlock grunted his acknowledgement and suckled at the head of John’s cock.

“SHERLOCK! Oh, fuck, yes!! Oh, fuck. Oh, FUCK!”

John thrashed, only his hips held in place by Sherlock’s strong hands. His alpha swallowed contentedly, taking the opportunity to look up at John through his lashes before finally pulling off.

John was still gasping, still shaking, when Sherlock finally kissed his way back up John’s body.

“Jesus, Sherlock,” John croaked. “For an alpha who’s never sucked a cock before…”

“It was all right?” Sherlock stretched out beside John, trailing his fingers over John’s abdomen.

“It was more than all right,” John chuckled. He laced his fingers with Sherlock’s. “Was it all right for you?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said, looking a little perplexed. “Did I not respond correctly?”

“Easy,” John gentled. “You were amazing. There’s no right and wrong with this. There’s only what you like more and what you like less and what you don’t like at all. And we’ve got lots of time to figure all that out.”

“That’s…good.”

“Good.”

“So the way you taste to me,” Sherlock mused, returning to his earlier enquiry. “And the way you smell. Your scent is much more subtle now, but I _can_ still smell you. Is it because you imprinted on me?”

“Yes. Normally that would fade after a rut or heat, without a bond. But so long as we continue, we’ll renew that tie.”

“Oh, I see. So our connection will get stronger? Even while we’re suppressed?”

“I imprinted on you before the Androtheryn took hold, and somehow you managed to overwhelm my suppressants altogether. And we have shared a season. We’ll have much more control than we would have had otherwise, and our cycles will be stable, but as long as we keep doing…this…the answer is yes,” John replied, noting Sherlock’s furrowed brow. “Is that okay?”

“I want to be connected to you,” Sherlock confirmed. “But it will be a change for me. I have a tendency to forget.” He hesitated, his lip twitching. “I left you in Brixton.”

“Well, fortunately your brother was keeping a watchful eye.”

“He is annoying that way.”

“At least I had a way to get home,” John teased. “Good thing, too, or I’d have missed the footrace with the taxi.”

Sherlock stared at him for a minute, a strange expression on his face.

“What is it, love?” John asked, suddenly concerned.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Come on. There was something. You can tell me.”

Sherlock smirked, just a little. “I was just wondering where your stick got to.”

John blinked several times, allowing this to sink in.

“But…”

“Yes?”

“I—” John swallowed hard, startled to feel his throat tightening and the tell-tale sting of tears. “Sherlock, I _ran_.”

“So you did,” Sherlock agreed matter-of-factly. He smoothed his hand over John’s belly.

“I haven’t run since…god, I can’t even think.”

“There you are. Told you it was psychos—”

Sherlock gasped as John grabbed both sides of his face and dragged him close. Every last trace of the fear and bitterness and rage that had dominated John’s world since his injury drained out of him. They were replaced by a grateful ache he couldn’t even begin to name, but it cried out for his alpha. He kissed Sherlock, and kissed him, and kissed him.

“Mfffmmm…John,” Sherlock struggled to get out finally.

“Yes? What is it?” John panted, still holding Sherlock’s face with both hands to keep it near his own. He never wanted to be done kissing the man beside him.

Sherlock’s smile was not nearly so cocky now. His eyes were wide as he said, “Home. You called 221B _home_.”

John shook his head in wonder at the man’s disbelieving tone, tracing a thumb over one of Sherlock’s cheekbones. “Is _that_ okay?”

Sherlock wrapped himself around John’s body, pressing his face to the spot just above John’s heart. “Yes. Of course. It’s…amazing.”  
_________________________________________

**_4 months ago_ **

“Sherlock.”

John’s voice was soft and his tone gentle, if slightly leading. The dark head snapped up and Sherlock locked eyes with him.

“Not good?”

“Bit not good, yeah,” John confirmed quietly as DS Donovan turned back in their direction.

“Oi, freak,” she said. “Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

Sherlock frowned a little, scrunching his nose up as he struggled to understand what he’d said or which social cue he’d missed. He would ask, of course, when they got into the cab or when they reached the flat. Sometimes, if they had time, he would ask right at the time.

John knew tonight would not be one of those occasions—Sherlock’s main contact with the police, DI Greg Lestrade, was returning to the scene with Anderson in tow.

While John was becoming more comfortable with teasing Sherlock, he took care never to embarrass his alpha. Though not because of some horribly outmoded, bullshit gender politics. It was never that.

The fact was, he’d felt like a prat the first time he’d said anything about Sherlock’s less tactful behaviour. It had been the same night as their first experiment in mutual fellatio (now a rather delightful ongoing feature of their new sex life). They’d been roused from their bed by a fake drugs bust.

Sherlock had been so exuberant, so animated with the excitement of having begun to see answers in the Jennifer Wilson murder. He hadn’t realized what he’d said about the stillborn baby, but he’d certainly felt the judgment of the Met’s finest as they’d stared at him in horror. He’d turned to John for some kind of guidance.

John had been both ridiculously chuffed and a little worried. He didn’t want Sherlock thinking that he didn’t approve of him. Still, he’d confirmed for his young alpha that his statement had sounded a bit calloused. And then, moments later, he had tried not to sound offended at Sherlock forgetting that he _had_ almost died himself, and didn’t have to imagine what those “last” moments might be like.

John understood, of course. He knew perfectly well that Sherlock was not a sociopath—he simply lacked (or had grown used to ignoring) social filters. In the time they had been living and working together, it had become clear that Sherlock was interested in learning some of these skills from John—he trusted John to do this for him. And John, even so early in their relationship, could deny him nothing.

Now, though, as Sherlock was crouched over yet another corpse, John could sense something was different. Something was wrong.

John knew better than to interrupt. He watched anxiously until Sherlock’s initial investigation was complete and then fell into step beside the man as they made their way out to the main street to hail a cab. Within a few short minutes, they were comfortably seated and on their way to Bart’s Hospital.

“Sherlock?” John asked finally. “Is something the matter?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Please. Please just answer me,” John said quietly, making every effort to keep their conversation private.

“I can’t answer you if I don’t know to what you are referring.”

“Earlier. When I…not good. You seemed, well, bothered.”

Sherlock sighed, staring out the cab window. “Did I?”

John tamped down on irritation. “You know you did.”

“It was nothing.”

“Sherlock—”

“We can discuss it later. For now I need to trace the three unknown stains on the victim’s jacket.”

John clenched his fists. “Fine.”

It was more than three hours later that Sherlock finally had his answer and John, finally, convinced him it was time for them to go home and get some sleep. They were tidying up their mess in the lab when Sherlock finally brought the subject up again.

“I wasn’t bothered,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“By what you said,” Sherlock clarified. “Not good. I wasn’t bothered.” He’d finished straightening the equipment and was pulling on his coat as John approached him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But you did look, I don’t know. Like you were uncomfortable. Or hurt,” John moved in close and laid a hand over Sherlock’s forearm. “I don’t want you to think—”

“What, that you believe I’m tone deaf to human emotion? That I lack empathy? That I’m a cold, selfish arsehole, even for an alpha?”

John’s short fuse caught that spark. “You are not!”

“Yes, I am,” Sherlock countered. “I am those things, John.”

“No, you’re not. Not really. You don’t pick up on some things because you are far too busy seeing all of the other amazing things the rest of us completely miss,” John insisted, huffing a little. “You are brilliant. And wonderful. And—”

John cut short his rant by stretching up on tip toe to place a very wet kiss on Sherlock’s lips. When he drew back, he nearly giggled at the look of complete bewilderment on the alpha’s face.

“I don’t, that is I am—” Sherlock started awkwardly. “I am trying to be more aware, but I don’t seem to be learning very quickly.” He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Not going to happen,” John assured him.

“I can be rude.”

“So can I.”

“But I never buy the milk.”

“And I will probably shout at you for that sometimes.”

“I leave eyeballs in the microwave.”

“Just not in my teacup, all right?”

“I don’t sleep sometimes.”

“And I sleep too much sometimes,” John sighed. “We are neither of us perfect, Sherlock. This isn’t a fairy tale. I am scarred, and I still have nightmares. I have a temper. I have trust issues.”

“So what?”

“Exactly.”

The crinkle appeared above Sherlock’s nose once more. “Exactly, what? What does that mean?”

“It means,” John began, closing in again to flatten his palms over his alpha’s chest. “You don’t let any of that deter you from being with me, so why would I care? I mean, I’d rather your clients weren’t offended—they do help to pay the bills. And having the coppers on side more often than not just seems practical. But the thing is, I like you. Just as you are.”

Sherlock studied him, nostrils flared and pupils dilating.

John chuckled. “I’ve hit your spot, haven’t I?”

There was a throaty, wholly alpha growl as Sherlock attempted a nod.

“Do you want to scent me?” John offered, baring his neck.

Sherlock grunted and pressed his nose beneath John’s collar into flesh, right above the scent gland, and snuffled contentedly. John hummed with satisfaction, letting his hands come to rest on Sherlock’s waist. He swayed into his alpha’s body, lulled by the grounding effect of their growing connection and by the trace he could detect of Sherlock’s delightful scent. Warm. Clover. Honey. Safe. Good.

“I want you,” Sherlock rumbled against John’s skin, sending shivers along the pathways of his nervous system.

John’s fingers tightened into fists, filled with handfuls of Sherlock’s heavy coat. “I want you, too.”

“Mine,” Sherlock rasped, shoving John’s shirt to the side to scrape his teeth along John’s collarbone.

“Mine,” John echoed.

Sherlock moaned. “ _John_.”

“Do it, Sherlock.”

The alpha growled once more and fastened his mouth over the spot on John’s neck where he might, one day, leave his bonding bite. He drew hard on the sensitive tissue, testing with his teeth in a wonderful foretaste of what may come.

John hoped it would. He had never been so sure of anything so quickly in his life.

He weakened against Sherlock’s body, arousal and instinct relaxing him in the presence of a potential mate—his imprinted lover. “Sherlock, we need to get home.”

Sherlock’s fingers moved from where they had been firmly gripping John’s upper arms. He reached down and began fumbling with the fastening of John’s trousers.

“Sh-Sherlock—oh, fuck—we shouldn’t,” John gasped. “Not here. The pathologist—”

“Molly.”

“Molly could come back.”

Sherlock made a non-committal noise, ignoring John’s half-hearted warning and making quick work of John’s flies. He tugged the khaki trousers down over John’s hips, followed swiftly by John’s red pants.

John had no will to stop what was happening. Not really. He murmured his approval as Sherlock released his semi-hard cock. “Touch me. Please.”

But Sherlock was already busy tugging at his own clothes. John began to understand and tried to help. He shoved Sherlock’s shirt up and out of the way. Their fingers tangled in haste and desperation as they struggled with Sherlock’s fine wool trousers. Soon though, John was pulling at the dark briefs, anxious to get to the thickening alpha prick he could see outlined beneath them.

Sherlock returned his attention to John’s cock. He spat in his fist and wrapped his fingers around the base.

“Jes—Sherlock. Yes, love. Oh, god, I love the feel of your hand on me.”

John rushed to free Sherlock and wrap his own fingers around the fat head of his alpha’s cock. He faltered a little as Sherlock dropped his brow to rest against John’s and let their bodies fall together. Sherlock had widened his stance, to better line up with John’s shorter frame, and pressed him back into the counter.

“Together,” he panted.

John understood immediately and shifted his hips. He gasped at the first touch of foreskins. Sherlock slid them together with a shattered breath.

“Good. Oh, god, John.”

“Yes, love.”

They wrapped their hands together around their joined shafts and stroked. They clung together, hips thrusting minutely, hands working in unison, moaning each other’s names.

Long minutes later, as Sherlock began to tremble with his oncoming orgasm, John wrapped his free arm around his mate.

“Steady, love. Ohhhhhh, christ, that’s so—are you going to come for me?”

“Yes! John, John, John….”

Sherlock shouted his release as he spilled over their hands and splattered the front of John’s untucked shirt. His hips stuttered and his hand on John went limp as he rode each wave.

John chased his own orgasm, scooping a little of Sherlock’s spunk to use as lube as he continued to rut against Sherlock’s softening cock.

Coming back to himself, Sherlock’s fingers once more tightened around them to help his lover finish. “Come on, John. So lovely like this. So lovely for me. Come. Shoot all over me. I want it. I want your come on me.”

The dirty words, in Sherlock’s rich voice, tipped John over the edge. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, but lurched helplessly into Sherlock’s embrace as he spilled between them.

Panting, John let his cheek drop to Sherlock’s shoulder. “That was…so good.”

“Hmmm.”

John sighed as he felt movement against his now oversensitive prick. “What is it you’re doing now?”

“Mine,” Sherlock muttered.

John picked his head up and looked down between them…where his alpha was now smearing their merged fluids over both their bellies. John hated the sticky feeling, and he wasn’t—or at least he never had been—interested in the whole alpha territorial marking thing. But for some reason all he could do was smile fondly at Sherlock’s intensity in the task.

“Yes, my love,” he whispered, chuckling. “I’m yours and you’re mine.” He pressed his lips against Sherlock’s cheek. “But you’re doing this load of washing, hmmm?”

_____________________________

**_2 months ago_ **

John emerged from the shower, whistling and sated. He quite enjoyed the feel of hot water washing over him, especially at the end of a cold night out in the field. Their stakeout had come at the end of a case stretched over several weeks. It had left them both exhausted.

It had left John a little horny, as well—and there was nothing like an early morning wank to set things to right.

John padded into the kitchen, his towel slung over his robe-clad shoulder. He flipped the kettle on and reached for his favourite mug. “Would you like some coffee?” he asked genially.

Sherlock was still seated in front of his microscope, exactly where John had left him when they’d arrived home.

“What?” Sherlock looked up, blinking in John’s direction.

John held up a mug with a smile. “Coffee?”

Sherlock’s eyes raked over him. John shifted a little, well aware that Sherlock was about to come to the conclusion that—

“You’ve been masturbating. In the shower. Why?”

“Sherlock…”

Sherlock looked around, mentally tracking something. “We haven’t had sex in…three weeks. You are a healthy omega with an active libido. You’ve been going without because I tend to forget about things like orgasms when I’m working.”

“And food and sleep,” John pointed out gently. “Sherlock, look, it’s—”

Sherlock stood and paced over to stand directly in front of John. He looked somewhat panicked as he stared down into John’s eyes. “I’ve failed. I’ve failed to satisfy my mate.”

“No, Sherlock…”

“You’re right, of course. I should have known that my years of denial would come at a cost, and that by asking you to share my life you’d be forced to bear those consequences with me.”

“Conse—look, just listen to me for a moment. You’re only 22—”

“It’s fine, John.” Sherlock turned away and strode into the sitting room.

John was stunned into immobility for a moment. “What?”

Sherlock stopped finally in front of his chair. He gathered his violin and tucked it beneath his chin. “I’ll understand if you want to leave.”

“LEAVE??” John hadn’t meant to shout it, but fear made him edgy. He stomped after his alpha. “What are you talking about?”

The first strains of something John had begun to recognize as Verdi began to fill the room. Sherlock stood facing the window, refusing to turn as John approached. John refused to be ignored and grabbed for the younger man’s arm. A horrible screeching noise assaulted both their ears as Sherlock’s bow scratched across the strings. He turned awkwardly as John pulled at his arm.

“Look at me,” John said firmly. He took the violin and the bow from Sherlock and set them back on his chair.

Sherlock continued to stare at the ceiling. John thought he could detect a bit of dampness forming in Sherlock’s eyes.

“Hey,” he said, more gently. He caught Sherlock’s chin between finger and thumb, urging his young alpha to look down at him. “Look at me. Please.”

Finally, Sherlock dropped his eyes to John. His mouth had turned down and there were dark circles under his lovely eyes. John got a glimpse—however briefly—of what his alpha would look like in a few years: Still boyishly handsome, with the same penetrating gaze, but with lines etched into the fair skin from years (John hoped) of laughter.

“I am not going anywhere,” John said. “Not now. Not ever. You are stuck with me.”

“But—?”

“Sex is not the determining factor in a relationship, Sherlock,” John started, trying not to sound too much like a doctor. “I knew you might lean more towards the graysexual end of the spectrum, given your history.”

“Graysexual?”

“We’ll look it up later,” John said. “In a nutshell, it means that you can experience sexual attraction under the right circumstances, but more often than not, you don’t. It is fairly atypical in alphas, but not unheardof. The suppressant drugs certainly help graysexual alphas feel more comfortable in their own skin.”  John smiled at Sherlock. “I certainly enjoyed your early interest in sex, but I was aware that it would probably settle down. And that’s fine. Sexual intimacy is not the only kind of intimacy.”

Sherlock pondered this. “But I like having sex with you.”

“Sometimes,” John added. “And we’ll have sex sometimes. And sometimes we’ll sit on the sofa together and watch crap telly. And sometimes you’ll hold my hand in taxis and kiss the top of my head when you pass my chair. And sometimes we’ll lie in bed together and I’ll fall asleep with you telling me about your latest case while you play with my hair.”

“That isn’t enough for you.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How? How can it be? You’ve taken to wanking in the shower by yourself!”

John placed a hand against Sherlock’s jaw. “Because I was horny and you weren’t. Were you?”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

“This can’t be enough for you, John. Why would you be okay with this?”

“Because I—” John took a deep breath between pursed lips. “Because I love you.”

Sherlock’s unhappy expression evaporated. “What?”

“I. Love. You.”

Sherlock inched closer to John. “You…you do? Why do you?”

John sighed. “Because.”

“Even…this?”

“Even this,” John assured him, chasing his words with a soft kiss. He drew the man into a hug and waited.

Sherlock relaxed into John’s arms. He grew quiet—he was processing, John knew. At length, he whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me about this before? The gray—”

“Graysexual,” John finished for him. He chuckled with happy memories. “Well, my time as your physician was cut a bit short. It was in my notes, though.” John drew back until he could see Sherlock’s face. “Did you not talk to Dr. Faulkner at all when you went to see her for your last Androtheryn shot?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She’s boring. I want you to be my doctor.”

“I can look after your general health and well-being at home, Sherlock, but my license prevents me from treating those closest to me. Besides, you need someone objective. Someone you can talk to about things without worrying how it will make them feel.”

“I suppose.” Sherlock pulled John close once more, resting his chin on the top of John’s head.

“Are we okay?” John asked softly.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied. “Yes, I think we are.”

_____________________________

**_1 month ago_ **

John stomped up the stairs at 221B, Sherlock on his heels.

“John,” Sherlock wheedled.

“NO!”

John stormed into the flat, tearing his jacket off and throwing it in the general direction of the sofa. He flopped into his chair, both hands gripping the arms tightly.

Sherlock strode into the room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. He stopped in front of John’s chair and waited. “You’re over-reacting.”

“Sod off.”

“I didn’t even notice he was an omega.”

John snorted, finally looking up at the man. “So you were, what, sniffing the air every time he came back to our table because…”

Sherlock shrugged. “Because he’s a smoker. I haven’t had a cigarette in weeks.”

John snorted again, looking toward the fire. “Right.”

“Why would I care that he was an omega?” Sherlock asked, puzzled. “I _have_ an omega.”

“A _suppressed_ omega,” John snapped. He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. Being suppressed had never, ever mattered before, but now?

“I’m a suppressed alpha. What of it?”

“It matters.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It’s different for alphas, especially you,” John grumbled sadly. “You’re young and strong and gifted.”

Sherlock shrugged again. “So?”

John throat tightened as he looked at his alpha once more. “What could you possibly want with an old, chemically altered omega? A broken-down former soldier? Scarred and probably barren now…”

“Barren?” Sherlock’s brows knit together. “Are we discussing having children? Because I really hadn’t even considered the idea—”

“Jesus, Sherlock!” John stood abruptly. He knew his face reflected the rib-crushing pain in his chest. “You deserve so much more than I can give you. So much more than I am.”

“John, I don’t deserve anything, except maybe the work and a lifetime of the loneliness to which my disposition tends to lead.” Sherlock placed a hand on John’s injured shoulder. “Is this about giving up your full-time practice? I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Don’t change the subject,” John said testily. “I’m not good enough for you. You should have someone like that boy. Fresh and ripe, unmarred and full of life. Smelling like vanilla and—”

“John, I honestly couldn’t tell you what he smelled like, besides cigarettes!” Sherlock ran a hand over his hair. “I’m suppressed, remember? He wasn’t important and I had something on my mind, so I wasn’t paying any attention to him at all…outside of the traces of nicotine. I _didn’t even notice_ that he was an omega.” Sherlock froze. “Wait. We’ve had this conversation.”

“We haven’t.”

“We most certainly have. More than once. Last time just a month ago,” Sherlock insisted, He grabbed at John’s hand. “Only then it was my turn to have a crisis.”

John shook his head. “That was nothing like this!”

“So you are allowed to love me regardless of my shortcomings, but I am supposed to try and find some other being on the face of this planet who can tolerate me—”

“I don’t tolerate you, you areshole!” John shouted. “I LOVE YOU!”

“AND I LOVE YOU!” Sherlock shouted back, his nose only inches from John’s.

John staggered back; Sherlock grasped his elbow to steady him.

John’s face was slack, one single tear threatening to spill down his cheek. “You…you…”

Sherlock’s face softened. “I love you, John Watson. I want us to belong to each other. For good.”

John choked out a sob. “ _Sherlock_.”

“Would you still consider bonding with me?”

“Yes. God, yes.” John grabbed at Sherlock, pulling him into a fierce embrace. He buried his face in Sherlock’s shoulder and wrapped both arms around Sherlock’s waist. And hung on for dear life. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re an idiot,” Sherlock teased, stroking over John’s shoulder blades.

“So are you. We’re a matched set.”

Sherlock snuggled John close and sighed with relief. “All right, then,” he rumbled, nosing at John’s neck. “That’s settled. In just a few weeks, we make it official.”

_______________________

**_Today_ **

It was early.

John trudged home from the tube station, already feeling too warm and a little achy. He’d calculated that his heat would begin Saturday morning, but it seemed his body had other ideas. It was a good thing, really, that Lucy had wanted to leave early and he didn’t have any late patients.

Not that it mattered—his alpha appeared to have buggered off to parts unknown. Of all the times for Sherlock to get distracted.

He turned the key in the lock at 221B and stepped into the foyer, closing the door behind him.

“Hello, dear,” a voice called.

John nodded at his landlady, who was peering out from the door to her own main-floor flat. “Afternoon, Mrs. H.”

“All ready for your big week?” She sniffed a little. “Oh, my, you’re certainly ripe, aren’t you?”

John tried to smile, scratching absent-mindedly at his forearm through his jacket. He really needed to get his clothing off. “Yeah, this is it. Probably start tonight. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Mrs. Hudson cooed. “I was planning to leave tonight for my sister’s anyway. You two have a lovely time. I’m so looking forward to the party!”

John’s brow furrowed. He was about to ask her what party she was talking about, but she had already disappeared back into her own flat. He shook his head and made his way up the stairs.

He entered the flat and immediately began to strip, unable to bear the feeling of the clothing against his sensitive skin. He shut and locked the door behind him—Sherlock had a key, if he was planning to come home at all, but John couldn’t afford to leave himself vulnerable.

He was just about to remove his trousers and pants when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. His heart leapt in his chest.

“Sherlock?” he called through the door.

“Of course it’s me,” his alpha huffed. “Who else would it be?”

“I didn’t know where you were,” John said, hating the tinge of a whine in his voice. “You’ve been gone for hours and no one knew where you were. I was getting worried.”

“Open the door, John,” came the unnaturally patient reply.

“Oh, right,” John muttered, stepping over to undo the lock.

The door swung wide and was slammed closed once more in a flurry of dark wool coat as Sherlock burst into the room.

“Sherlock,” John panted. His legs were beginning to shake with need and the smell of his alpha in the room sent John’s head spinning. “Need you. Where were you? Thought you were going to leave me alone.”

Sherlock dropped his coat to the floor and hurried to gather John into his arms. “Shhhhh. I would never do that. This is our bonding heat. How could I possibly miss it?”

John sighed with relief and buried his nose in Sherlock’s neck, drawing in as much as he could of the lovely scent. “It aches, Sherlock.”

“I know,” Sherlock soothed. He rubbed over John’s bare back in wide circles. “I know, my John. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you feel better and keep you safe. Trust me?”

“Always,” John breathed. “So glad one of us will be able to stay sane this time around.”

Sherlock snorted. “Saner, perhaps, than when I’m in rut. But, oh, god, you do smell wonderful.”

“For you,” John sighed. “All for you.” He pressed his hardening cock into Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock growled low in his throat. “No time to waste, then.” He drew away from John a little and started working on the rest of his clothes. “Let’s get you out of these and into a nice, soft nest, hmmm?”

John blinked at him, finding it harder and harder to focus his thoughts. “Nest? You made a nest?”

“Of course I did. I’ve laid all the provisions you’ve been stocking up within easy reach, and I’ve dealt with our phones and email accounts.”

“You have?” John thought perhaps he should sound more surprised—that seemed reasonable—but he was far too interested in the touch of his alpha’s fingers over his bare bottom as they slid his pants off. A trickle of lubrication dribbled from his bottom and he moaned.

“I know,” Sherlock said gently. “I know what you need. Come on.”

He led John down the hall to their room and pushed the door wide.

“Sherlock!” John cried. “Look what you’ve done!”

John padded into the room, which had been completely transformed by soft fabrics and dim lights. As during their first heat, Sherlock had built a nest on their bed out of his own clothing and bedding that smelled like him. John reached out for it, suddenly desperate to be surrounded by his alpha.

“That’s it,” Sherlock encouraged. “You get settled; I’ll be right behind you.”

John turned, noting that Sherlock was already tearing at his clothes. His tone was very controlled, but his eyes had gone dark with desire. It wouldn’t be long now before they were both lost.

John climbed up into the nest and rolled happily in the overwhelming smell of his mate. He moaned and reached for his aching cock.

And then Sherlock was there—settling beside him, kissing him, telling him how beautiful he was.

John rolled into the side of Sherlock’s body. Sherlock stroked slowly over his taut nipples, mouthing over his neck and chest.

“My omega. Mine.”

“Yes,” John whispered. “My alpha.”

Sherlock rolled John to his back and wasted no time sliding down the length of his body. John arched off the bed with a shout as Sherlock’s lips closed around his prick. He dug his fingers into his alpha’s curls and held on.

“Love you, love you, love you,” John groaned. “My alpha. Fuck me. Please. Fill me. Knot me. God, I need it. Please, Sherlock. It hurts.”

Sherlock pulled off John’s cock with a slurp. “Patience, my love.” He shifted John’s hips up, dropping John’s legs over his shoulders, and mouthed over John’s small testicles. He suckled and teased for a moment and then nosed into John’s cleft. He dragged his tongue over the saturated and swollen hole.

“Fuck, Sherlock!”

Sherlock licked and sucked at John’s entrance, breaching with his tongue again and again. By the time he’d had his fill, John had reached the edge of his coherence.

“Please—fuck me now. Please. Alpha, please!”

Sherlock dragged his tongue up and over John’s hip, nipped over the surface of his belly, and stopped briefly to suckle at his nipples before finally covering John’s mouth with his own.

John wrapped both legs around his alpha’s body, kissing back like a thirsty man offered water.

Sherlock pulled back and regarded him with a tender smile. “And that is what you taste like in me,” he rumbled.

John couldn’t help but smile, even as he continued grinding his needy body into his alpha. “Fill me. I need it.”

“I know you do,” Sherlock replied, with a kiss to the tip of John’s nose as he rolled away. “On to your side, my love, so you’ll be comfortable later.”

John thought he’d nodded, but couldn’t be sure. He did find himself on his left side, though, with Sherlock behind him and his top leg caught under the knee by Sherlock’s elbow. Sherlock was nuzzling at the bonding site—the touch made John’s body release another flood of slick.

Sherlock moaned. “Look at you. So ready for me. So ready for my knot. Is that what you want?”

“Yes!” John grasped at the hand holding his leg. “Oh, god, please!”

Sherlock rubbed the tip of his huge cock over John’s dripping hole and sighed with satisfaction. He pressed in, just enough to seat the head inside John’s body.

John shouted his pleasure and tried to push back for more.

“Patience,” Sherlock whispered, holding him still. He eased forward, inch by inch, testing John’s readiness for a fully erect alpha prick.

John whined a bit at the stretch as the last few inches slid home.

“There,” Sherlock soothed. “I’m in you. We’re one now. Just relax and let me make it all better.”

John drifted then, feeling only the wonderful pressure and fullness of his alpha inside him and the hard slap of Sherlock’s hips against his bottom. He was moaning something, probably didn’t matter what. Sherlock was responding with muttered nonsense, right into John’s ear.

Finally, when John thought he could bear it no longer, he felt Sherlock’s knot testing his rim. He whined a little and flinched, but Sherlock held him fast.

“This is what you need, my love. You need my knot. You need my bite.”

John screamed as Sherlock pushed through the last barrier, driving his knot inside John’s slick passage. At the very same moment, John felt the sharp sting of Sherlock’s teeth at his throat, binding them together. He spent himself all over their nest as Sherlock flooded him from within.

It seemed like ages later, as they lay tied together, when something of John’s rational mind returned.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, John?”

“Why does Mrs. H think we’re having a party?”

“Ah, well,” Sherlock began, clearing his throat. “I thought—it was meant to be a surprise, you see. That’s why I was out all day. Mycroft helped—”

“Did you…did you plan a bonding celebration?”

“It seemed the least I could do,” Sherlock said quietly. “You got the flat ready and filed all the licenses.” He paused, his arms tightening ever so slightly. “Is that…okay?”

“My god, I love you,” John replied, his voice gruff. “I don’t know what I ever did without you.”

“Nor me,” Sherlock agreed. He placed a series of soft kisses over John’s shoulder. “We belong together.”

“Always.”

“Always,” Sherlock affirmed, placing a gentle kiss over John’s bonding mark. “Sleep now. You need your rest. I’ll be right here when you need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies! I hope you enjoy this. I wrote it especially for the lovely darlingnikkisayshi on tumblr.


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